Enslaved by Kearney Susan

Author:Kearney, Susan [Kearney, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-23T00:34:18+00:00

Chapter 8

Through the drawn blinds, the basement’s casement windows cast riveting shadows and intriguing light over Brittany’s skin, skin now bared to Chad’s touch, quivering beneath the pads of his fingertips. Pliant and soft as fine suede, warm as rich caramel, her flesh, so sensitive to his lightest caress, was a silky texture he would never forget.

He let his fingers linger on the insides of her tender thighs, drawing tidy, tempting circles. Slowly she thawed from icy hard to a wonderfully warm woman riding the razor’s edge of desire. Eventually he would give her more, but first he would see exactly how far she would let him go.

He enjoyed taking complete control, enjoyed the power he wielded as she responded to him—no doubt against her will. His ice princess wanted to pretend she didn’t have needs and that she didn’t want him, which made her trembling all the sweeter. She wanted him to continue, and even if she wouldn’t speak the words, her body was plainly talking to him.

Her breathing was no longer even. Muscles he’d worked hard to relax quivered with lust. A sugary dampness spread between her thighs, and he breathed in her musky essence, pleased by her feminine heat.

Watching her transform, forcing her to come to terms with the passionate woman she’d tried to hide, was causing satisfaction he’d never known to well up in his chest. That he could make her want him, that he had won her trust, unkinked a knot inside him that he’d never known was there.

Since his wife had left him, he’d let women pick him up in bars, knowing they wanted the same thing he did—a night of pleasure and no commitments. Those women had come to him already primed for sex. Making love with Brittany was different. He’d had to work to please her, and that made having her open and eager and ready for him all the more exciting.

In absolutely no hurry, he skimmed his fingers down the inside of her parted legs to her knees, noting with satisfaction that as her hands clenched the T-shirt, her legs parted another millimeter, silently asking him to reverse the direction of his massage.

“I could touch you like this all day,” he murmured with husky pleasure as the cocoa butter melted into her golden skin. He traced fingers behind her knees, watched little goose bumps rise up in response. Slowly he caressed her calves, her ankles, her feet.

“I…didn’t…know feet could…be so…sensitive.”

Her voice, raw with passion yet oddly hesitant, made him go easier on her. He’d been about to ask her to turn over, to delay her ultimate pleasure. He longed to explore her breasts, discover their texture and color and size, ached to know if her nipples were hard with wanting, but he refused to selfishly break the mood.

Taking one of her feet in his hands, he rubbed the instep, appreciating her square toes, the close-clipped nails, the high and delicate arch. “The navy sent me to Japan to learn hand-to-hand combat. While I was there, I learned to appreciate Eastern culture.

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